


Dawn

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arda Reforged, Back to Middle-Earth Month, Fëanorian Week 2019, Gen, Good Parent Fëanor, Reunions, post Dagor Dagorath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: The world is remade, and yet Nerdanel's house is empty. She sets out to fix this.





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my final piece for Feanorian Week 2019, and the 3/24 piece for B2MeM :) Feanorian Week was such a blast, I'm so glad I had enough motivation to participate! The prompts were "Pardon's the word to all" from the Shakespeare Quotes card (it's from the final scene in Cymbeline) and for the Nerdanel & Feanor day, I chose to focus on Marriage, Reunion, Creation, and Healing.
> 
> This fic contains some minor/background Russingon, and an original character in the second half.
> 
> I took some liberties with concepts like the elvish marriage bonds & motherly foresight & naming (I think there's some sort of naming ceremony for the amilesse that I ignored) but I am happy with how this turned out :) Hope you enjoy!

The world is renewed, the marring reconciled, the pains of all ages washed away. Arda Reforged is a paradise of love and magic, and all is at last as it should be.

And yet, Nerdanel's house is empty.

She does not begrudge her sons for forging lives of their own. They had all been pardoned of their misdeeds and allowed a second life, for which she was grateful. They were not strangers to her home, but it was not theirs any longer. It had not been since they first left for Middle-earth long ago.

Nerdanel had friends and family, but she lived alone. She had long since adapted to her solitude; she had endured it for ages. It had given her the space she needed to heal and recover from the pain of losing her sons and her husband. She was glad of that time, but now...

The Great Battle was over. Arda was whole. Around her, people thrive, and she is glad of that. But her marriage-bond still burns within her, and she misses Fëanáro.

Once, ages ago, she had forsaken him. She remained faithful to the Valar in his betrayal, and she was certain she would never welcome him back into her arms should he return.

But that was then, in Arda Marred. In Arda Renewed, Nerdanel has been healed of her hurts, and while she is content as she is, she yearns for the embrace of her husband and the comfort of her marriage.

Fëanáro was released to battle in Dagor Dagorath and to break his precious Silmarils to allow the Trees to grow once more. It had broken him, but he, too, was reforged in the Second Music. Humbled, he lives again in Valinor, though Arafinwë yet rules as High King. He is wise enough now to decline the title that had so corrupted his burning soul.

Nerdanel has seen him since, even spoken with him. They are still wed, but they are apart. The bond between them, once so open and passionate, has been closed for thousands of years. She does not ache from the loss—all pains are muted and gentle in Arda Remade—but she  _wants_. She wants  _him_.

He dwells with his mother, Míriel Þerindë, who lives again. Mother and son have forged their own bond that was denied them before, and Nerdanel is glad of that, but Fëanáro belongs here, with her, in the bed that was once theirs.

She had been furious with him, disappointed and appalled by his actions. In time she had found peace with herself, and then with him. Forgiveness is a healing action, and she deserves healing. Now that Arda is healed along with her heart, things ought to be right in the world. She sees others reunited, couples once sundered joined together again, and knows that is what she deserves as well.

But Fëanáro is not here.

Nerdanel waits, opening her heart to him, but there is nothing. No response. If she could feel the pain she once had known, it would burn her now, but in Arda Reforged she understands why he does not reach out. He is remorseful, healing on his own, and respectful of the harm he caused her. At least, that is what her sons assure her. They visit him frequently.

Maitimo is most adamant that Fëanáro still loves her. He insists that Nerdanel ought to reach out, but she hesitates. In the dawn of this new world, all had been made right: if they were not together, was this what Eru wanted?

"Your bond is still alive," Maitimo reasons. "You must strengthen it on your own. Even now, Eru will not force unity upon his Children."

Nerdanel is astonished that it is her son who gives her marital advice, and not she to him! But while Maitimo's relationship has been fraught with distress, nothing now hinders his and Findekáno's love. So what holds her back?

She cannot find an answer in her heart, so she decides: she will go to him.

Míriel welcomes her daughter-in-law into her house graciously. Nerdanel watches her carefully: she, too, has an imperfect bond. Finwë is confined to the Halls of Mandos forever, that she might live, sundering him from either Míriel or Indis. Does it pain her, as much as pain can be felt in this perfect world?

She cannot tell, but the way Míriel squeezes her hand before leaving her alone with Fëanáro makes Nerdanel wonder.

Fëanáro has always had an open face, his emotions bursting out of him, and Nerdanel knows him better than most. She can see his discomfort in every fidget, his worry in the way he avoids her gaze. Nerdanel is still.

"Fëanáro," she says after a too-long silence. "Look at me. Please."

He lifts his eyes, and she feels it within her: their bond, blazing with a white hot fire of pain and passion both. She flinches, and Fëanáro reaches out for her instinctively. He stops himself before he touches her, but she grabs his outstretched hand.

Fëanáro lets go like she burns. Perhaps she does: he certainly burns  _her_ , but it is a pleasant feeling, that of love rekindled.

"Why are you here, Nerdanel?" he asks. The hesitance is gone from him.  _This_  is her Fëanáro, proud and direct, the fire lit within him. "I wished to give you freedom, and peace, without me. I have repented of my rebellions—"

"I know this," she interrupts. "I have had freedom; I have had peace. I forgive your rebellions, and I choose you now as I once did."

Fëanáro stares for a moment, then stands, offering her his arm. "I cannot say I am wholly surprised," he admits. "I know you too well to believe you hated me."

Nerdanel stands beside him, drawing herself up to her full height, a few inches taller than her husband. "Oh, I did," she teases. He leads her to the gardens of his mother's home, into the light of the Sun and the Trees, as she continues, "And there is  _much_  we need to discuss before I invite you back into my house. But for all your great and terrible deeds, you have been far too quiet since the world was remade. I need to draw you out of your...mourning period."

"I am simply exercising restraint," Fëanáro protests, batting his lashes with false innocence.

"You've been up too something." Nerdanel smirks. "Well, you may reveal it now that I am here to temper your ambitions."

Fëanáro looked at her sidelong, a crooked smile upon his face. "It is a tapestry," he says, "detailing the fall of Moringotto and the sacrifice of the Silmarils. It focuses not on the deeds of the Ainur—"

"Aha," Nerdanel says. "I knew there was  _some_  rebellion left in your fëa."

"I do not rebel!" he exclaims. "But I will not praise the Valar when the Vanyar have done more than enough of that. The tales of the Ñoldor are vast, and have not yet been told in full."

"You have never been a weaver," Nerdanel observes. "Is Míriel teaching you?"

"I am Fëanáro Þerindion," he says proudly. "Arda Unmarred has given me the gift of time—I may now master all the skills I could not learn in the Halls."

"And I shall master them twice as fast," Nerdanel asserts. "It is good you have sparked my competitive spirit—for all our sons visit often, I have been awfully bored in that great big house of mine."

"Ours?" Fëanáro asks hopefully.

Nerdanel stops. "Mine," she repeats, and he narrows his eyes. "But it will be ours," she adds mischievously, "and if our second marriage is to be as fruitful as the first, we shall have to collaborate again on our greatest creations."

"Jewels  _greater_  than the Silmarils?" Fëanáro says, wide-eyed.

Nerdanel swats him. "If I had a hand in those, the history of Arda would have been much different," she quips.

"Twas a jest!" he exclaims. "I know what you suggest, my love." He leans forward and kisses her; Nerdanel lets him, though she does not kiss back—not yet. "The house will not be empty for long."

* * *

The eighth child of Nerdanel and Fëanáro is born at dawn. Nerdanel holds the crying babe in her arms, radiant with joy. Fëanáro is mesmerized by the sound; his eyes are as wide as they were at Maitimo's birth.

Míriel is there to welcome her grandchild into the world. Nerdanel's parents wait outside with their seven sons. Even Fëanáro's siblings and their brood are anxious to meet the newest addition to the family, but for now, this moment is shared by the parents and Míriel.

Míriel kisses the child's brow, wonder in her eyes. "A girl," she says softly. "You have been blessed!"

Nerdanel laughs tiredly. She is exhausted from the birth, but she has no fear of fading away as her mother-in-law once did: Arda is perfect, and her soul is stronger with her new child in her arms.

"I always wanted a daughter," Fëanáro murmurs. "I have a name for her."

"Already?" Nerdanel asks. "You waited weeks to name the twins."

"Only because you already named them," Fëanáro dismisses. He stands, drawing back the curtains to let the light of the Sun shine into the room. "There was no Sun when our others were born," he says. "She is born in dawn's light, and she is brighter even than the Silmarils."

Nerdanel smiles. Yes, this was the Fëanáro she married, proud of all his creations but most of all his children.

He holds his arms out, and Nerdanel passes their daughter to him. Fëanáro lifts her head to the sunlight, and she starts to whimper, her little fists blocking the rays.

"Fëanáro—" Míriel begins, but he shushes his mother, shielding his child's eyes.

"I name you Rilyárë," he declares, "my daughter born in the glittering dawn."

"Rilyárë," Nerdanel repeats. "It is beautiful, love.  _She_  is beautiful."

"Rilya, for short," Fëanáro says, handing her back to her mother.

"But you never use their shortened names," Nerdanel points out. It was a stubborn habit turned family joke: Nerdanel called the boys by their amilessës or their nicknames, but Fëanáro insisted on using their full Finwëan names every time.

He smiles, and he, too, is brilliant in the glittering dawn. "It is yet the dawn of Arda Reforged, not only the dawn of little Rilya. I can change my ways."

Hearing that, Nerdanel falls in love with him all over again. Her heart bursting with joy, she looks down at Rilyárë and time falls away.

This moment of insight has never come to her quite so soon, nor so strong: the twins she named only a day after their birth, and Fëanáro's objections had only added to the disunity between them at the time. But even the dreadful fate she saw in Umbarto's future had not come to her as clearly as Rilyárë's does now.

Nerdanal sees Rilyárë, grown in full. She is silver-haired, taking after Míriel and Tyelko, tall and beautiful. The light of the Trees shines in her eyes, brighter even than the Silmarils, and she is beloved. Rilyárë walks with her father to Taniquetildë, and together they embrace Finwë, returned from the dead despite his vow! Indis and Míriel both weep and take their husband aside in joyous reunion.

Two other elves, unfamiliar to Nerdanel, approach her daughter and she falls into their arms, kissing them both. The Valar smile upon them all, and Nerdanel is awed: their family is whole again, every remnant of the marring set right at last by the greatest of all Fëanáro's creations, and Rilya too is lifted up in love. The Trees and cursed jewels pale in comparison the wondrous light of Nerdanel's daughter.

She blinks, and the vision is gone. The clarity of Rilyárë's radiant smile fades away, but the feeling in her heart remains.

"Nerdanel? My love?" Fëanáro kneels by her side.

"I have a name for her, also," Nerdanel says softly. She brushes aside the little tuft of silver hair from Rilya's face, staring deep into those glorious eyes.

Míriel gasps softly. "Ought I to bring in the rest?" she says.

Nerdanel nods, and the door is opened. The seven sons of Nerdanel file in, beholding their sister with wonder. The rest of the Finwëans watch respectfully from the doorway as Nerdanel raises her daughter so all may see.

"This is Rilyárë, daughter of Fëanáro," she declares, "but I name her Rátasilmë, daughter of Nerdanel, for she she surpasses any gem of shining white light— _she_  is her father's greatest creation, and in time all Arda shall adore her."

"Rátasilmë." Fëanáro laughs. "You are excellent at naming children, Nerdanel." He kisses her brow, then Rilya's, picking the child up so she may be passed around and held by her brothers.

"I have had much practice," Nerdanel said, watching as Atarinkë coos at his sister before reluctantly handing her over to Carnistir, who is blushing more than usual in his excitement. Makalaurë has that distant look in his eyes, and she knows he is already composing a song for her; Maitimo reaches over to stroke her hair with his golden hand. Tyelkormo embraces the Ambarussa, a grin on his face, and for once the twins do not object to being babied—they are no longer the youngest, and now understand why they have been treated so.

Tyelperinquar squeezes inside, insisting that he ought to get a turn with his newborn aunt, and the rest of the extended family swarms around the infant. Rilya is uncharacteristically quiet for an infant, but Nerdanel knows that the love radiating from everyone calms her fëa.

Nerdanel sighs, leaning backward into the warm embrace of her husband. "Your name is beautiful, too," she murmurs. "The second dawn of Arda changed you, and for the better."

"I hope I am not too unrecognizable," Fëanáro murmurs back, and Nerdanel answers him with a kiss.

"They call me the Wise for a reason," she whispers into his ear, twitching in amusement. "I choose names and husbands well."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [realelvish.net](http://realelvish.net/) for all my elf-naming needs! I sorta explained it in the fic, but Rilya's father name, Rilyárë, means "glittering dawn" and her mother name, Rátasilmë, means "surpassing shining white light" ie the Silmarils.
> 
> Also, in regards to the future Nerdanel sees, I think Rilya is the one who goes to the Valar and is like, "Hey, if everything's supposed to be perfect now, why is Finwe still stuck in the Halls?" and the Valar like "but he can't be married twice..." and then she calls up her girlfriends and is like "polyamory" and the Valar are like, "Ah, I see, you are correct" and fix that little problem, lol.
> 
> ETA 9/1/19: If you were curious about the reference to Mae's "golden hand"...I go into some headcanons around that in [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398906/) (starting at ch4).
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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